


What We Sow

by Bleubirdy16



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, The Wizard Of Oz (1939), The Wizard of Oz & Related Fandoms
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28554225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleubirdy16/pseuds/Bleubirdy16
Summary: An exploration of the relationship between the North Witch Mombi and the Great Wizard himself."After arriving in Oz and proclaiming himself as the new dominant ruler, the Wizard made arrangements in three secret visits to an irrelevant witch known as simply Mombi."
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

It was a humid, stormy day in 1892. Three o’clock had just passed, according to the sun, but that only seemed to make the day drag on further. Afternoons, during that time, were always a bore; it represented the last fateful hour before the evening truly began. The hazy sun sat woefully behind a pair of tall clouds, and the sky continued to grow dark. Birds flew low across the field here, as trees were few along the trails. A lonesome wagon clambered down the dirt path, gray rocks shooting for the moon as the wheels passed. The wagon had an older tarp stretched across the top, clearly older, but it functioned just as a fully wooden compartment. Transportation in Nebraska was spare, as getting closer to the Wildcat Hills often turned most people away. The eastern Great Plains stretched below this land, inviting promise onto its bountiful soil.

In the driver’s seat was an older gentleman of about 40, his sunburnt brow focused on the dreary skies ahead. Next to him, a girl of about 18; a strange companion for a man who never married or had children of his own. It was a strange relationship, the man and girl, but it worked well.

While strangers thought of them as father and daughter, they were no more than acquainted travelling companions. The man would always focus on the road ahead, and the girl had the map.

As thunder rumbled above her, the girl began to trace the faint red lines of the high tableland marked ‘Mitchell Pass’.

“Do you think these rocks have been here forever?” The girl asked.

She stared around the moving landscape, watching as the large formations slowly passed them. The wagon went over another bush, causing the wagon to jump, and the gentleman gave a loud sigh.

“Of course. God put them there, and they would never leave under his watchful eye. It’s like those fools over in that Fort we passed this morning. It’s all up to him.” He said, wiping the solitary bead of sweat from his brow. The faint tan on the man’s arms was red with the sun, but the clouds, now blocking the star, aimed to wash this color away. Rain, common during these months, quickly began approaching the small wagon. This did not scare the old man, but the girl fidgeting at the signs of lightning.

“Do you think Omaha is any closer at this rate?” She asked the man. The man looked at her, disdain ready to rattle from his lips.

“We’re in Morrill County. It’s closer than last week. Don’t get like that, girl. You make me nervous, moving around and asking questions. If you’re so paranoid about the rain, get under the tarp.” He suggested. The girl shook her head at this, but climbed under the tarp anyways.

“I’m sorry. Those stories of whirlwinds and lightning frighten me. After all, they called this trail Devil’s Gap before the fort was established, during the emmigration. We’re all alone out here, save for those mail carts,” The girl placed a hand on her partner’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to die like that, especially in this wagon. We must live to see the great fair, after all. That may be a while off, but it’ll be here in a flash.” The man sighed again, staring at the dark skies.

“Perhaps we’ll get swept away, over a rainbow, and all the way home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a lot of creative license taken with this one, mainly because I just wanted to write what I thought was missing from the backstory of some of Baum's writings. I'm including a lot of other influences from Oz material, but I am gonna try to stick to what I know (mainly what Wikipedia tells me and my own copies of the classic works).


	2. Chapter 1

The remains of his precious hot air balloon surrounded Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmanuel Ambroise Diggs, as he stepped onto the soil. The terrible storm at the fair had ruined his demonstration, but there were more concerning matters than the tattered balloon. Nothing in this world was like what he’d ever seen in Omaha, especially not at the fair. While being a magician was his specialty, Oscar knew how to get a buck off of any man-especially the hicks from the Plains-but this was a whole new playing field. The countryside, or what he assumed to be, was sparse of any trees. The harsh winds in this area slapped Oscar hard as he stumbled forwards, now determined to find shelter. Grabbing his green overcoat and travelling case, he walked along a small path, shielding his face from the wind.

‘What a strange storm this must be.’ Oscar though, slowly trampling along the fields. Unlike the corn he’d originally crashed into, the pumpkin farms all around him were abundant with strong harvest. The blue sky overhead clung to the green of the fields, but Oscar felt like a sore thumb. The depressingly muted green of his coat clashed against the vibrant emerald of the country, and the pretty blue ribbons (most likely crop markers) did not help his mood. This land’s colors, especially the green, captivated Oscar with a ferocity he’d only felt a few times, mainly during his most successful swindles. This, he decided, was his favorite part of this land-wherever it was. Back in Omaha, his troupe members were unappreciative of his presence, mainly due to their focus on the rest of the fair entertainment. So much had happened over those three days, such as the circus, but it was all underwhelming for Oscar. Fame had been his premeditated goal for the fair, not being dragged through a corn field. Even his personally commissioned balloon was ruined, again not helping his mood.

  
A small village entered his sights as he reached the top of another rolling farm hill, and it seemed to be bustling with excitement. This was a place much like the city-extremely busy. Oscar rushed along the dirt farm paths, hoping to find someone to speak to about his balloon. Entering through a small gate on the eastern side, Oscar almost missed the distinct yellow road that veered off from this exit. As strange as it was, the bright colors that made up most of his walk seemed to inhibit his observation skills, almost desensitizing him to this. Coming near a fountain, Oscar sat down, hoping to find someone in charge. Unknowingly, his presence alone already drew the attention of residents.  
The strange man (Oscar), with a coat that resembled the kingly robes of King Pastoria, stood out like a sore thumb against the blue and navy shine of the townsfolk. Finding his courage, an older gentleman in navy approached the mysterious man by the fountain, which Oscar immediately took pleasure in.

“Young man, what are you doing in the land of the Munchkins? You seem an awfully long way from anywhere in particular.” The old man, who was also quite observant, noticed the travelling case at Oscar’s feet. O.Z. was clearly marked on it. The mark of Ozma, and, by association, Lurline. The odd appearance of the stranger also struck the old man, almost to the point where he wasn’t sure how to proceed with addressing the younger stranger. For someone who could be royalty, he was awfully plain looking, the old man mused.

  
“I am not exactly sure where I am. Is there any way you could tell me exactly where we are. I’m not really from around here, at all. You see, my balloon crashed in the storm-” Oscar was quickly cut off by the older man’s laughter, which slowly died down after a minute. A desperation of acknowledgement rested in Oscar’s eyes, the old man saw. However, this stranger had to be familiar with this land. Why else the markings on his case? Why else would the symbol of their beloved ruler be present with this man?  
“My boy, you are in Oz. This is Munchkinland, where we have grown fine crops for millenia. Are you looking for somewhere or someone in particular?” The man asked. Oscar shook his head at this, bringing the travelling case to his knees.

  
“I should like water. I’ve traveled very far, and that nasty wind took a lot out of me. It’s a wonder those fields survive that.” Oscar said with a smile. The older man shook his head again, stepping back as Oscar rose from the fountain. Oscar, while a few inches taller than the man, seemed to tower over him, as if to be significantly more important. This aura of confidence and pride only further the older man’s wild theories about the mysterious stranger, and he began to lead Oscar towards the town pub. Oscar struggled in the crowds behind the man, continually getting caught up in directional scuffles. The door to the pub was a sturdy pine, Oscar guessed, but before it was opened, the man whipped around to face him.

  
“What was your name, son? I am Philador, a prince of sorts. My father, Cheeriobed, rules in Gilkenny.” Philador said with a smile.

  
“I am Oscar Zoraster Diggs, a magician of sorts.” Oscar was intrigued by Philador, for how could such an old man be a prince? By that extension, what was his wealth? A sucker born every minute, all the famous con men would say, and Oscar held this thought in the back of his head, entering the pub. The pub was filled with men at Philador’s size, much smaller than Oscar’s larger stature. While gangly, Oscar was a twig against some of these men, who must’ve been fieldworkers or lumberjacks based on their biceps. However, everyone offered the duo a healthy smile when Philador opened the small door, so Oscar presumed no one was a threat; at least, not yet.

  
“Everyone, I have an announcement!” Philador exclaimed. Oscar sheepishly smiled as cheers rang out when he entered the pub, but Philador quickly hushed the room.

  
“This man, Oscar Diggs, has come from the great star Omaha. Another magic user is among us again, and he is looking to find others as well. Come forth my friends, tell Oscar of your travels.”

  
Several of the older men around the room immediately stood, coming to shake hands with Oscar. Each one incredibly reverent towards his figure, almost treating him like a Catholic Saint. This is fame, Oscar thought, as he watched the room light up. His presence alone brought out the best of these people, and when he sat down at the bar, a woman was already at his side. Her stark raven hair and thin form stood out against the blue of the Munchkins, and her neat smile made him nearly miss the cup of water in front of him. With some bumbling, Oscar took the drink, gingerly drinking it as men began to explain the strange woods and wind phenomena they’d encountered over the years. The woman continued to grow closer to Oscar, to the point where they were toe to toe. Turning back to the bartender, Oscar began to pull out his wallet, but he was stopped.

  
“Friend Oscar, what are you doing? We are all neighbors in this land, and we give back to each other as well. There is no need to feel remorse over taking a necessity. Please, rest and tell us your tale of triumph.” Philador exclaimed.

  
Eager faces agreed with the prince around the bar, and a puzzled Oscar only could put his wallet away with little hesitation.

  
“Dear Oscar, please, tell us of this Omaha you hail from. Is it different from Oz?” One of the lumber workers asked. Oscar was puzzled by this question, since how could you play up the Great Plains. Taking another sip from his glass, Oscar sat down at the bar counter, spinning to face his audience.

  
“Well, I must say, the sky is blue just like Oz. However, Omaha is a bright, shining city of light, where the circus plays for months on end.” Oscar found that he was smiling, almost happy to recount the tale of the city that brought him so much stress.

  
Their small party clambered on as such for hours, letting Oscar tell them how he arrived from Omaha in the process. Each of the patrons got something from his stories, allowing the stranger to become a topic of town gossip by teatime. Dinner had the nightly messengers ready to spread the news towards the Emerald City. All the while, Oscar himself was unsure what to do next. He was sure that these people would grow disenchanted with his presence at some point, but he needed a plan. By the end of the night, one of the last patrons, a man identifying himself as one Dr. Nikidik gave some cryptic advice to Oscar about his future.

  
“Young man, you must seek out Mombi, great sorceress of the Northern Gillikin Country. What a powerful woman, Mombi. She will help you achieve your future here in Oz, I can see it now. Her, along with Singra of the South, have become powerful users of magic, fit for a king’s council. That, or you could travel to the Emerald City. There you will find King Pastoria, and you could be his grand vizier. Imagine that!” The crooked doctor explained.

  
While half drunk, Nikidik had a point-someone who had real magic would be useful to Oscar. The patrons had told Oscar of the kindly King Pastoria and a strange prophecy that would rule, the one known as “Oz”, a king. Oscar, they assumed, was the Ozian in question who would become a compassionate ruler, almost to rival the former Ozma. This, along with finding Mombi, became Oscar Diggs’ new goal: travel to the Emerald City.

  
There was only one thing stopping him: the black-haired woman, who Oscar found out was named Melena. She’d been at his side the whole night, only pulling away to drink something herself. Oscar didn’t dar touch anything other than the water, mainly in fear of what could happen to him. All the talk of magic and ferocious animals in the woods secretly frightened Oscar, and even he had his limits. Melena, while beautiful, was the wife of the nearby minister, and also related to the Governor of Munchkinland.  
Oscar knew his place, but he had his share of temptations. This town Oscar landed in, Rush Margins, was small in comparison to other larger towns northwards, but it had great value to it. The perfect community to swindle of riches. Exactly what his troupe left at the Omaha Fair would have done. As he began to step out of the pub, he waved one last goodbye with these thoughts, and continued to ponder outside the building. What he didn’t realize was that Melena had come to his side, clearly searching for more than his company.

  
“Oscar, will you walk me home?” Melena cooed from his side. Oscar stared down at the woman beside him, picking his bag from the pub floor.

  
“Yes, I suppose. After all, it seems this is my last night here in town. Would you like a drink of something?” He asked. The faint glimmer in his eye dimmed as he saw her nod, hoping that she would turn him down. Oscar sighed, pulling a familiar green bottle from his travelling case. It was to cure anything, he’d been told, but perhaps this would fix the drunken woman’s common sense. Oscar knew what kind of advances women could make, but this was wrong. Melena would be wrong, so instead, Oscar figured it would be better to leave her at home, taking his leave immediately after. Melena greedily took the bottle from Oscar’s hand, taking a hefty swig of the concoction, and Oscar only smiled at her.

  
Soon enough, the drug began to work it’s charm, and a barely-standing Melena was in Oscar’s arms. He silently thanked the Lord, realizing that he really had walked her home. This was outside the hut far from Rush Margins, and upon opening the door, Oscar found no one in the home. A letter from Frexspar was strewn on the counter, ink sloppily written across the page. Several I love yous littered the parchment, and it only made Oscar’s guilt worsen. He would never sleep, knowing he would have ruined another happy marriage.

  
He was to be a powerful ruler now, or so the villagers said. This would serve as a terrible testament to what kind of man he was, so instead, as night settled on Oz, Oscar stepped out of Melena and Frexspar’s home. The little lantern on the gate quickly found itself in Oscar’s arms as he began moving across the landscape, making sure to take the northernmost section of the yellow road. This road, made of bricks, would be officially dubbed as the Yellow Brick Road under his rule, Oscar decided, and throughout the following days of his journey, Oscar could not resist the thoughts of himself on a throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I couldn't do it. I couldn't follow MacGuire, just because the Wizard in the original novels just seems like that mumbling farm kid who is only a crook and not something I'm uncomfortable writing. Lots of time was spent hunting through my copies of the 15 original Baum novels (and the Wikipedia wormhole). Philador, Cheeriobed, and Nikdik are all characters from the Oz canon, or at least, Wikipedia says so.


	3. Chapter 2

The Great and Terrible Mombi sat in her small kitchen, craning her neck out the bay window ahead of her. Bright sunlight stretched across the horizon, but it was another day of simple farm work for the girl. After all, housework never did itself; then again, neither did powerful curses and enchantments. Everyday life, in Gillikin Country, slowed like the sands of the Impassible Desert, since not even the Emerald City could invade her new domain. While irrelevant within the witches’ of Oz, Mombi had amassed a great group of allies elsewhere-like Princess Langwidere. She was the vainest regent Mombi ever met, always focusing on her beautiful heads.  _ Heads, unlike tomatoes, would never permanently bruise or rot,  _ thought Mombi.  _ Only your heart can rot away, or perhaps your brain. _

This made the old woman smile while she picked vegetables, her hand expertly picking the finest potato and tomato crop in the Northern Country. Her true pride was in these plants, as they served as her children. While powerful, the witch found that, in her old age, she was truly alone. Small children were too much to take care of anyhow, but it somehow troubled Mombi that maybe she would collapse one day, no one ever realizing it. People only came when they needed something from her; that was apparent from the moment she began her sorcery. It was unlike anything Oz had ever seen; flawless transformation and curses by the plenty. Raw talent exploded in her fingertips, but the witches of Oz were clueless of this power. She would save that effort for someone truly special, as that was the only suitable way Mombi found use of her power. 

As the sun hit midday, Mombi turned to a cloudless sky, the heat beating her skull. With a wave of her hand, thick clouds began rolling over Gilkenny, blocking the sun in small intervals. A few birds cried at this sudden change, but Mombi still smiled. The residents of the nearby Gilkenny, especially Mayor Cheeriobed, were resentful of Mombi’s presence on days like this. The purple-clad citizens loved a day in the sun, something the old woman quickly grew to hate. The fact they had enough gall to constantly ask for sunny weather and a nice breeze made Mombi stressed beyond imagination, and it was nice to somehow “get back” at them. 

Uplanders had it worse, she figured, being surrounded by snow for half the year. There was enough snow back in the United States, or Mombi hoped there still was. The Inland Sea was also a factor Gilliken’s snow percentage, but after the gelatin incident, the snows were significantly heavier. Perhaps her spells did change things permanently, but a spell could always be broken. It was better than the Backwoodsman nonsense they taught at the young Shiz University, where they spoke of magic being irreversible. Singra, the only other witch with decency in Oz, rejected their teachings, following the true Quadling tradition of nomadic living. She could cast a good storm, Singra, as she was gifted in creating large storms or cloaks. There were storms that could cover all of Oz for weeks, and Mombi would sit and record it all in a journal. 

“Is anyone there?” A voice called out from the forest. Mombi, still her precious garden, began to stand before sensing the impending pain in her knees. Groaning, Mombi stood up, grabbing the fence post for support. 

“I’m over here. Give me a moment to face you.” There was a slight tremor in the old woman’s steps, but soon enough, Mombi reached the younger man who stood patiently at her doorstep. There was a deep seated fear in his eyes, and a trembling hand almost shoved a letter into her hand. Mombi smirked, looking the man directly in his eyes.

“Will that be all, young man?” She asked, neatly tucking the letter into her apron pocket. The young man looked distressed at this, but made no further effort to stop her. 

“Please. It’s about the Governor of the Munchkins. He’s heard of your work, ma’am, and there’s something he requests of you. His only child, little Elphaba, has been terribly ill. She’s only two, and this is the only thing he’s requested of a witch for three years now.” The young man pleaded, beginning to step away from the witch. 

“Frexspar will know my response by tomorrow. Thank you for stopping by.” Mombi said, turning her door handle. 

Stepping inside, she watched as the young man ran for his life, likely scared the terrible witch would turn him into a rat or dog. Mombi laughed at this, hoping that he could spread more rumors about her in Gilkenny. That was the direction he ran off in, and hopefully the silly Cheeriobed would come to her door with more herbs to satiate her anger. This was the main way Mombi lived, off of donations or offerings to her mighty influence. While not necessarily power, Mombi knew of far more than the King of Oz; even the citizens of Ev had crossed the Impassible Desert to seek her guidance. The status of being important to her customers often kept Mombi going, unlike her often pondered plan of becoming a simple farmwoman or maid. Her magic kept others caring, which influenced Mombi much more than her dear patrons. 

It was about teatime when another man approached the cottage. This was the first time Mombi had ever seen someone like the man, but she was accustomed to strangers on her doorstep. As her older self, she stepped outside, the little wicker basket she often used in Gilkenny to shop on her elbow. 

“Is this the home of Mombi, Great Witch of the North?” The man asked. From what Mombi could tell, he was about 22 years old (based on the sleek brown hair) and a member of King Pastoria’s court. The ridiculous emerald overcoat and spectacles he was wearing immediately gave away, most importantly, his status of royal vizier. Mombi’s crooked smile crept onto her face as she realized these details; this was a special customer. He could be ripped off of his wares much easier than those of Gilkenny. The young man would be so lost near the base of Shadow Mountain that he’d settle for anything. 

“Yes, young man. Welcome to my home! Please, I’ll have you for tea.” Mombi said, slowly beginning to reach for the door handle. She was stopped by the younger man, who grinned at her after stepping into her space. The green spectacles highlighted the sheer glee on his face, and Mombi only grew more annoyed at how eager this man was. The faster the swindle, the sooner she could get to Gilkenny. There would be nice afternoon pastries in the town bakery’s window, likely bread or pie. Cherry pie had always been Mombi’s favorite, and the woman who owned the shop also loved the cherry flavor. An agreement had been made between them, and the locals grew to like cherry after weeks of the same pies being made. 

“Mombi, if I may address you as such, it is an honor to be here. I cannot begin to tell you how long I have searched for you.” The young man said, opening the door for Mombi. With a huff, Mombi stepped into her home, placing the basket back onto it’s counter spot. The stranger closed the door behind him, leaving the two in the afternoon glow. Mombi deeply sighed as she crossed the kitchen, opening another window. Clouds were forming in the sky, and the stranger sat himself at her table. A kettle was set on the stove in a flash, and Mombi finally sat down to face the young man in her home. 

“So, tell me why you’ve been searching for me for so long.” Mombi asked, folding her hands over her skirts. The younger man immediately leaned forwards, moving ever so slightly closer to the witch. He removed his glasses to reveal dark eyes, and Mombi was terribly reminiscent of the rolling plains she’d once seen in her childhood.

“My name is Oscar Zoroaster Diggs, and I am now the grand vizier of King Pastoria. It is my duty to seek out aid for the royal family, but I have come here on personal business.” Oscar said. Mombi was now intrigued by the man, especially with his comments of a personal visit. It was different, dealing with Ozite court members, but this man was special. 

“Tell me, Oscar Diggs, what is it you seek from me.” Mombi asked. Oscar smiled, again moving closer to the witch.

“I wish to be a close confidant with you, oh powerful one. You are one of the only witches without obligation to the throne. I think we can help each other.” Oscar said proudly. Mombi began to violently laugh at his suggestion, her chair almost toppling over. Oscar frowned at her outburst, but chose to keep quiet. 

“Oscar Diggs, I am perfectly content with my time here in Gillikin. The citizens obey me, my word is law, and King Pastoria has no power here. We have no reporting Governor, and I have my deserved respect. What could you possibly offer me that would be enticing?” Mombi asked, the back of her hand hiding her terrible smile. Oscar sighed, staring at the floor. 

“You are correct. I have little else to offer you, but I wish for your guidance. Have you ever heard of Omaha? Your people seem to believe it is a star.” Oscar admitted. 

Mombi froze at this proclamation, remembering Nebraska’s large plains and the great cornfields of Kansas. This childhood seemed a lifetime away, and a singular tear rolled down Mombi’s face. Her own mother, so disappointed in her daughter, was a shining figure of strength in these memories. Her brothers, all slaving bankers, surrounded her at all times. The man she traveled with, a stony figure, smiled beside her in their wagon. 

“The Omaha Fair.” Mombi whispered, more tears streaming down her face. Oscar’s head rose to see this particular moment of emotion, and he nodded in solemn understanding. 

“Yes. I came from that fair. I was brought here in a balloon, and they hailed me to be a wizard. King Pastoria made me the royal vizier due to these rumors, but there is not a single day I miss Omaha. It was unfair to me in it’s time.” Oscar lamented. Mombi did not listen to his speech, instead continuing to remember everything that she’d lost for many years. The old woman seated at the little table was the front of a heavily guarded child, one that almost never saw the light of day. 

“Mombi?” Oscar asked, reaching across the table. He shook the crying woman a little, hoping to wake her from the trance. It was useless, as she seemed to be in shock. The teapot suddenly screamed from Mombi’s stove, and Oscar jumped at the noise. He ran to the water, quickly pouring it into the teapot on the counter. Mombi only stared ahead, continuing her strange trance. Oscar noticed this, but continued to pour tea for himself and the old woman. 

“I must be your confidant. It is the only way I shall ever bring peace to this land. I’ve already introduced money into the Emerald City, along with the green spectacles. They are wonderful improvements, and I believe all of Oz could benefit from something similar. However, I need a confidant with connections to all the witches, especially the Southern Witch. With a band of four, I would happily rule the city and Oz, as a figurehead, but let the witches have this land. They are closest to the deep magic of this world, and it is far better than an old man with a baby.” Oscar began to feel like he was talking to himself, but his explanations were not in vain. Mombi sat back in her chair quickly, watching as Oscar poured a swirling cup of tea for her. 

“I will stay in Gilkenny for the rest of my life if I have to. It’s been my life’s work since coming from Omaha to do this, and you are my last hope. I already have a room at the inn, and I will come by everyday at this time. I don’t expect you to say yes, but I will never stop trying.” Oscar said, finally sitting down again. Mombi blinked as he raised his cup to his lips, watching intently as Oscar drank. Mombi’s cup stayed untouched, and it remained that way for the rest of the time Oscar was present. 

“Come back tomorrow. I need time to muddle over this.” Mombi said quietly. This response took Oscar by surprise, but he respectfully stood at the old woman’s request. With a straw hat on his brow, the younger man took leave of the cottage, a bright smile on his face. Mombi only sat at her table, more tears rolling down her face. The salty water made the old woman finally sob, as she mourned over the loss of so many in her life. 

It was midnight when Mombi came to her senses; the kitchen was lit by a small candle in the window now. Mombi’s trance finally broke when the window clapped open on its own, the wind howling in the distance. A shudder came into her arms, and Mombi immediately latched the shutters closed. The witch ran around her home, covering the windows with sheets and linens, blocking every sign of the outside world. Once that was done, she fled to her small basement with chalk and a single egg. This would be the tricky part, for Mombi; getting  _ him  _ there was half the trouble. 

“Sire. I need to speak to you.” Mombi whispered, knocking three times on her stone basement. She drew a circle of chalk where her summons were, and began to wait. The ground was deathly still as she sat in the dark, as there was to be no light when  _ he _ was around. Mombi sat within the little chalk circle, taking deliberate heaves of air with each passing second. It was almost  _ too _ quiet, her basement, but she assumed it was just her nerves. After all, the Gnome King was a formidable opponent, despite what Pastoria and his council believed. 

“Dearest Mombi, why have you called me?” A deep voice rang out. Two bright yellow eyes peered at the witch from the ground, and a man suddenly sprouted from the ground. Grime-filled teeth smiled as the witch nodded her head, and a stony brow raised in surprise. The Gnome King did not often see Mombi as an old witch, but it was a welcomed change over the young girl or raunchy woman. Her many identities felt superficial to him, expect for one. However, it was more important to the King that he addressed her about  _ that  _ subject at a different time-perhaps in his domain. 

“It’s been sometime since we last spoke, Sir, but I have someone who could help us.” Mombi quietly said. The Gnome King nodded, his hand moving to rest on his chin. Mombi smiled at this; nothing really changed about him. 

“The vizier fellow? He’s like us, all changed ones, and he’s a damned fool. Working with Pastoria-bah! I don’t want to ever hear a word of his musings.” The Gnome King’s face shifted into a frown, the grumbling of rocks beneath him. Mombi sighed, bringing a hand to her head. 

“You are not listening to me, Sid.” The Gnome King almost shouted at the use of his name, but he quickly was silenced by Mombi’s deafening gaze. A few moments passed before Mombi began to speak, the air leeching with anticipation. 

“This could be my chance to get into the palace. I just...I want your blessing. You’re the last thing I have.” Mombi quickly shifted onto her knees, sweeping her skirt around her. Sid, or rather the Gnome King, gave Mombi a look of disdain, but was quick to speak. 

“Do as you wish my dear, for I shall remain in my domain. I do ask, however, that you visit my homeland soon. You’d like what I’ve done with my prisoners.” The Gnome King’s frown shifted into a smile, and his torso moved closer to Mombi’s sitting form. His stony hand touched her chin, and Mombi’s eyes began to water. 

“Do not cry, my child. I will always be with you. After all, I am the Earth you live upon. Have a good night, Mombi. You have my blessing.” The Gnome King’s smile made Mombi’s heart ache, but it was too late to say otherwise. The rocky torso that had been formed in her basement suddenly melted into the ground, and Mombi was once again alone. With a sigh, the old woman cracked the egg over the spot where her dear friend once was, and watched as it too disappeared into the Earth. Once on her knees, Mombi left the basement and fell asleep in her own bed, too tired to think of anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so a few things taken from Return to OZ, particularly the Gnome King and Mombi working together. While the Gnome King is the big baddie in the original novels, none of the Witches actually seem to care. Langwidere is also back in her original position, so no Princess Mombi unfortunately.


	4. Chapter 3

The very next morning was hard for Mombi, as the old woman could barely rise from her sheets.

The Shadow Mountain had moved once again, taking the mountainside rain with it. Storms would be harder to conjure if there were no clouds, but the witch couldn’t care. Her newest nuisance was coming up the trail from Gilkenny, just as she saw in her scrying glass. The glass was a small glass orb situated near her bedside, mostly for precaution, but served as a window into the land of Oz. The witch could spy on anything she desired, including the damned Pastoria and his infant daughter.

How she loathed them, the royal family, and Mombi would stop at nothing to have a witch or woman on the throne. There was no point to her inner turmoil, however, as Oscar soon arrived on the witch’s doorstep.

“Great Mombi of the North! I have returned to hear your answer.” Oscar called from outside. Mombi groaned, rising from her bed, and turned to the window.

  
“Give me time, young vizier. This old hag has just awoken from a long nap.” She cried, waving a hand at Oscar. He backed away at her request, leaving a respectable distance between the house and himself. 

Mombi basked in the morning sun, finding the change in weather to be fitting for the day ahead of her. The stairs creaked as the old woman came tumbling down them, a sort of strange giddiness in her step.

  
Oscar, patiently stood under the morning heat, looking around at the various flowers and vegetables Mombi employed in her garden.

To him, this level of homemade green was a fantastic achievement. He even picked a single rose from the bush, putting it into his pocket. The reflection on the little window in the door smiled back at Oscar, beckoning him to admire himself in it. He wasn’t the average circus magician anymore; no, he was the dominant ruler in Oz.

Pastoria left most of his own duties to Oscar, opting to spend time with his daughter instead. While adorable, the “Wizard of Oz”, so to speak, took care of state matters and even war with Ev. Now, he’d found the woman to truly establish himself on the throne.

  
“Oscar? Are you even paying attention? Stop staring at my roses and get inside! We’ve much work to do.” Mombi shouted. She stood by the front door, a small staff in her hand. Oscar moved across the path, immediately coming to stand next to the witch.  
“You smile too much for someone important.” Mombi said, eying his attire.

  
“Well, there’s something to smile about for once. I’m delighted to work with you.” Oscar was practically beaming as he followed Mombi throughout her home, watching as the witch waved a hand at the wall. Her small abode came to life, brooms immediately moving about and a fry pan sizzling on the small stove.

  
“I am still wary of others. I work alone and for no one, mostly. I know of you well, Oscar. You’ve made quite a name for yourself in the Emerald City.” The witch said. Oscar sighed at the mention of this.

  
“Yet, you do not like it there? I suspected as such when you arrived on my doorstep yesterday, but I didn’t understand why. Tell me, as I should like to know before our collaboration may begin, if ever.” Oscar watched as Mombi moved around her kitchen, grabbing a specific set of plates and glasses for each of them, bringing them back to her little table. Oscar stared at the lifeless frog staring up from his residence on the plate, the little sword in his hand looking sharp.

  
“It’s funny really why I hate it there so much. Pastoria isn’t ever a bother, the people are very kind to me, and I go where I please too. However, I am trapped within the confines of my abilities, which are few compared to yourself, your...” Oscar trailed off, looking to Mombi for help. She laughed, making the Wizard jump.

  
“I am an irrelevant speck in this world, young man. There are women far prettier and powerful than me, and they are bad witches. I am simple Mombi, as I have never garnered anything worthy of a title.” Mombi chuckled as she spoke, shaking her head as she moved around the kitchen again. This time fresh juice appeared in a pitcher on the table, and Oscar swore he saw cheese materialize on Mombi’s dish.

“Well, you are great in the North, Mombi. I just am upset by the lack of true authority and authenticity I possess, I suppose. It’s nothing I couldn’t fix, save for the idea that I will be trapped as a servant to the crown the rest of my career. There’s nothing illustrious about that prospect.” Oscar said.

“Now there’s an idea!” Mombi exclaimed, slapping her spatula against the counter. “Expanding your career would be perfect for you.”

  
“What do you mean?” Oscar said. Mombi shuffled over, putting a set of eggs and ham on his plate.

  
“Eat first, then I shall elaborate. You are far too thin for someone of power, at least in Oz.” She said, finally sitting down with him. The Wizard of Oz nodded, taking a bite of his food. Mombi stared into the green eyes that sat across from her, nodding to herself as she took note of his features.

  
“You will make a great ruler, Oscar, if that is what you wish to have. You crave power, authority, or even dominance over everything in your mind’s eye. I could be of service to you, or, in some strange way, a friend. Keep eating, you look ridiculous holding a fork with nothing on it.” Mombi scolded the younger man, making him immediately turn back to his plate.

  
“I will make you an offer in two days time when I have gathered the necessary information I need about a little plan I am formulating. You, in turn, will travel with me for the next 48 hours, as I want you to witness the power of true sorcery. Do we have a bargain?” Mombi’s outstretched fingers greeted Oscar with a terrible fondness, but there was danger in her words.

  
However, Oscar was unfazed as he grabbed her palm, instantly regretting his choice. She smiled, a wicked grin on her face, and he knew in that moment, he’d made a bargain with true evil. The old witch laughed as she tore away her hand, her hair wildly flailing in time with her cackling.

  
“Now, my dearest Wizard, we ride to my newest request.” The old witch ran about the kitchen collecting a few small items. Among them, a large stick and a strange looking orb mounted on top stood out to Oscar.

  
“How are we going to get there?” Oscar asked, following Mombi back into the sunlight. The door slammed behind him as he stepped out of the house, the bottom half of the door kicking his shin. 

Mombi giggled at this, taking a turn to wave her magic staff around the garden. The most beautiful of her flowers, poppies, surrounded the pair. Oscar turned to the witch in desperation, but her look of serenity only scared him more.

  
The poppies were thrown in a large circle around them in an instant, and Oscar held his breath. Red petals shot into the sky, much like a broken artery, and the witch screamed. Oscar gave a terrible shout at this display, beginning to step away from the circle. Fierce winds prevented his exit, as he was swept back to his spot almost immediately. His feet were quickly thrown from the ground, and the duo took flight.

  
A whirlwind grew around Oscar and Mombi, and for miles, the poppies fell. The villagers of the North, while used to Mombi’s antics, had never seen something so tragically beautiful, as their supposed ruler traveled with her new companion at rapid speeds.  
Oscar held onto his small briefcase for dear life, almost forgetting he even had it. Above him, Mombi flew against the strong winds, searching for their first location. As the countryside below them continued to change, the faint smell of a town grew closer with each passing second. The duo quickly landed in a little grass field, Oscar on his knees and Mombi beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s me, ya boy, simp for this witch. I know not many people care about this fandom or even this work, but I care and it makes me very happy to know others are reading it. 
> 
> Please leave kudos or comments! I like constructive criticism and I always love talking about the source material <3


End file.
